


Garak's Clothiers

by Still_Not_King



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, M/M, Screenplay/Script Format, Silly, Zoom Play Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27086518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_Not_King/pseuds/Still_Not_King
Summary: Garak hates Bashir's clothes, and has seized a perfect opportunity.Bashir has just arrived at his destination and realized his entire packed wardrobe has been swapped out.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 30
Kudos: 56
Collections: Sid City Social Club Script Collection





	Garak's Clothiers

**Author's Note:**

> This was written PURELY for giggles as the puchline to a hilarious conversation I had with some internet friends about Garak altering Bashir's clothes without his knowledge. It was written in a zoom-format play. (It is, however, never actually intended for performance). 
> 
> Since I don't actually have any DS9 stuff on here, I figure I might as well pop this into the aether of the internet for everyone else to laugh and generally giggle at. 
> 
> ENJOY

Time and space are nebulous and strange. This could be basically any time in these two characters' timelines together, though the familiarity cants things towards a longer acquaintance.

The premise is simple.

Garak hates Bashir's clothes, and has seized a perfect opportunity.

Bashir has just arrived at his destination and realized his entire packed wardrobe has been swapped out.

  
  
  


(Communicator Rings)

GARAK:

(Picks up com)

Ah, hello my dear doc--

JULIAN:

GARAK! What. Happened. To. My clothes??

GARAK:

I'm sorry, dear. You'll have to be more specific. 

JULIAN:

My clothes. My Clothes! The ones I packed for the plasma burn conference. What happened to them?

GARAK:

I don't understand the question. You seemed to have everything packed and stowed away nicely when you arrived at my quarters.

JULIAN:

(Frustrated)

I did.

GARAK:

And you _did_ bring the selfsame luggage with you onto the transport, if I'm not terribly mistaken.

JULIAN:

Indeed I _did_.

GARAK:

(Blinking and generally acting overly innocent)

Well I fail to see what you could possibly be complaining about. It sounds to me you have plenty of clothing to last the duration of the conference.

JULIAN:

It's not the _quantity_ of clothing I'm concerned about, Garak.

GARAK:

Then what IS the problem, Doctor? I keep telling you, this way you have of talking around the point is really quite--

JULIAN:

THESE ARE NOT MY CLOTHES, ELIM.

GARAK:

I assure you they are. Everything will fit just fine. 

JULIAN:

(Irritated snort)

GARAK:

I venture to say they’ll fit better still than that cacophonous nonsense you had thought to bring. Honestly, Doctor. Do you think I'd send you to present at the largest conference on 'The Evaluation and Treatment of Heat-Induced Wounds and Illnesses' in the sector looking like you’d been dressed by some colorblind Ferengi?

(He says the name of the conference in a way that indicates Bashir has been talking about little else for… Let's go with a while.)

  
  


JULIAN:

(a bit long-suffering)

Garak, my clothes were _fine_

GARAK:

What's that phrase you like to use? Agree to disagree?

JULIAN:

What am I supposed to do with these??

GARAK:

One would assume you would wear them, my dear. Or do you humans have some alternate ritual involving clothing I'm unaware of?

JULIAN:

(Flustered)

I-There's-of course there's- I mean sometimes, but that's not-

(Huff)

Listen. I don't even know how I'm supposed to get _into_ some of these.

GARAK:

I assure you, Cardassian style fasteners are far superior to your awful zippers.

JULIAN:

Not if I can't work them, they aren't.

GARAK:

Surely someone with your level of intelligence wouldn't allow themselves to be foiled by a simple clothes fastener.

JULIAN:

(Glares)

Of course not.

GARAK:

I didn't think so. 

JULIAN:

(Rummages around, can be offscreen)

And what - what - what - there’s not a button-down shirt in the bunch!

GARAK:  
There should be one. I packed a variation on your delightful little spy costume.

JULIAN:  
It’s all tunics and --

(Indignant)

Little Spy Costume??  
  


GARAK:

The white shirt along with the darkest jacket and the matching pants. I included… what did you call it? A waistcoat. I was unsure what level of formality the conference would expect, nor was I able to ascertain it from your previously-vetted wardrobe.

JULIAN:  
Dammit. Garak, I’m going to look like a waiter.

GARAK:

If the waiters are dressed that well, I shudder to think what your reception would have been had you arrived in your originally planned raiment.

JULIAN:

That's not how it works I just - wait.

(Rummaging intensifies)

Garak.

(He is calm. Calm calm calm. This is what calm looks like, right?)

What did you do with my undergarments?

GARAK:

You mean those horrible shorts? Is that what they were? Strange human custom, men wearing smaller pants beneath their outside-

JULIAN:

(Annoyed)

Dammit Garak!

GARAK:

You know it was the darndest thing. I took your, ah - first draft attempt at a fashion narrative and while I was making my edits wouldn't you know an entire pile tipped over and fell into the reclaimer. Terrible business - but more's the mercy. I was able to replace them with some handy alternatives.

JULIAN:

(Actually a bit distressed that his clothing ended up in the reclaimer)

Not the purple sleeveless?

GARAK:

(A bit sour and disappointed in himself)

No, dear Doctor. I regret to assure you - that velveteen monstrosity and the rest of your more _colorful_ outerwear will be waiting for you at home upon your return.

But the shorts had to go. I couldn't stand that awful Starfleet standard material they use.

JULIAN:

(Indignant)

I _like_ standard-issue underthings!

GARAK:

Due to a lack in variety of experiences, I assure you 

JULIAN:

They're comfortable

GARAK:

They're evident under your clothes and the edges ride up under your uniform. You just haven't known any better.

JULIAN:

(Teasing, still a bit annoyed)

Evident under my clothes??

GARAK:

(Aloof)

I'm a tailor. I take a professional interest in making sure my closest associates have a put together look to them.

JULIAN:

I'm one of your "closest associates" now, am I?

GARAK:

What else would you be?

JULIAN:

(Amused at this point. It's not like he can get his clothes back, and the arguing has him in a much better mood.)

Do you surprise all your closest associates with an entirely new, custom wardrobe, then? Or am I special?  
(He knows the answer to this question. Cheeky.)

GARAK:

(He will certainly not admit to special treatment)

Doctor, you of all people should know: comparison is the thief of joy. Why should I pop that inflated ego of yours with the idea I regularly put together outfit series for discerning clients?

JULIAN:

So I'm a discerning client now, am I?

GARAK:

You are many things, my dear doctor. A hopeless dresser among them.

JULIAN:

(An amused but resigned sigh.  
Looking over the clothes, a bit distracted now)

These necklines are something, Garak. I'm going to _look_ like someone from Cardassia dressed me.

GARAK:

Thank you

JULIAN:

It wasn't meant as a- never mind.

Might as well embroider "Property of Elim Garak" across my back.

GARAK:

(Scoffs)

Such nonsense.

JULIAN:

(Eyeroll)

Glad we agree about SOMETHING

GARAK:

I would never be so naive as to broadcast sentiment in such an obvious manner. Something simple, like "Please Return To Nearest Cardassian" would suffice. I AM the only one on the station. Though that is rather wordy for-

JULIAN:

DAMMIT GARAK. NOT at ALL what I meant.

(Back to being annoyed)

So all my underthings went in the reclaimer?

GARAK:

Yes. Luckily, I had some alternatives in your size at the shop.

JULIAN:

Luckily, my giddy aunt...

I don't see them.

GARAK:

Oh, they were the smaller kind. I find Quark's dabo girls tend to enjoy the material, and it does seem rather more flattering to the figure than those terrible half-pants.

JULIAN:

(Exasperated laugh. He's caught sight of them.)

Garak these… 

(Shakes his head. It's a cultural misunderstanding, but he's the one who's going to have to wear them)

These are women's briefs.

  
  


GARAK:

(Genuinely puzzled)

I've had plenty of human males purchase this style of undergarments.

JULIAN:

(Opens his mouth but realises there's No point trying to to explain. Moves on.)

I… I'm sure it'll be fine. So long as there's no "return to nearest Cardasssian" stitching on them.

GARAK:

(Pleased with himself)

Of course not, Doctor. We'd hate to have you turned over to the wrong one.

JULIAN:

(Amused and a bit flattered)

Yes, well…

(Rummages around some more for something to do, which becomes more pointed after a moment)

 _  
_ What did you do with my uniform?? It's not in the reclaimer, is it? I actually need those. I only have so many-

GARAK:

Doctor, I failed to see why you would _choose_ to pack that… that _thing_ when you’re in no way representing either Starfleet or the Federation. You said yourself this was a civilian conference. Wasn’t that one of the reasons it was such an honor to be asked to present?

JULIAN:

Well... Yes. But I was going to wear it when I spoke! I'm a Starfleet CMO, for goodness sake. I can wear it for that reason.

GARAK:

(Tuts)

You could, but Why??

JULIAN:

It’s easy and I know it’s sharp! 

GARAK:

Sharp like a needle to the cornea, perhaps.

No no no, you can wear the ivory shirt with the dark green vest and grey trousers.

JULIAN:

(Scowls at the viewscreen before turning to less-angrily rummage through the luggage.

He finds what he’s looking for and is loath to admit, but…) _  
_ These… are actually… very nice.

GARAK:

(Sniffs imperiously)

Of course they are.

JULIAN:

(Still annoyed)

Well I’m still supposed to wear a uniform when I'm in transit back - I'm taking a federation vessel home, not the civilian transport I left on! 

GARAK:

Yes yes. Bottom left pocket...

JULIAN:

(Finds it and just stares, resigned)

(Defeated sigh)

This is a skant, Garak.

GARAK:

(Enthusiastically)

Yes! I don't know _why_ you all insist on wearing that terrible baby clothing--

JULIAN:

IT'S CALLED A JUMPSUIT

GARAK:

(Ignoring him completely and ploughing on with a hand wave)

\--when you've got a regulation tunic style that's not just for dress uniforms.

(He frowns)

I couldn't find the bottoms' replicator pattern, but I'm certain the dark trousers will do nicely.

JULIAN:

Dammit. Garak, you couldn't find the bottoms' pattern bc there isn't one!

GARAK:

… I'm sorry?

JULIAN:

This is a skant-style uniform. It doesn't come with bottoms because you don't wear any.

GARAK:

Oh.

(Smiles)

Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I hadn't an inkling.

(That is an obvious lie and Julian f*cking knows it.)

Might I ask why you've never tried this particular style before?

JULIAN:

Of course I've tried it before.

GARAK:

(Intrigued)

Oh?

JULIAN:

Of course! But it made me look about seven feet tall and mostly leg. I'm a damned giraffe in the thing.

GARAK:

Oh, I highly doubt that, Doctor.

JULIAN:

Oh, I most definitely am, Mister Garak.

GARAK:

Well, I shall be the judge of that I'm afraid. Eye of the beholder, after all.

JULIAN:

(Petulant & challenging)

Well you'll just see when I get back!

GARAK:

I shall await your com with the breathless anticipation only your awful human romances can emulate.

JULIAN:

(Placated, but keeping up appearances)

Well you'll certainly hear from me before I dock. After all, I've got to update you on how terribly the entire conference is progressing, and how things _would_ progress so much more smoothly if I had my original wardrobe.

GARAK:

Always an excuse to bother an old tailor. Can I not have three full days to myself?

JULIAN:

(Fondly)

Not if I can help it.

GARAK:

Well. I suppose it's only polite to listen to a discerning client's opinions after the first wear.

JULIAN:

I _am_ one of your closest associates.

GARAK:

(Surprisingly serious)

The closest.

JULIAN:

(“Aww how sweet” for a moment before he catches himself)

Well, I suppose I should unpack and get to sleep. The main presentations begin in 9 hours and I am shuttle-lagged like you wouldn't believe.

GARAK:

Of course. Make sure to hang the shirts if you can. And your trousers are best if you lay them out to hold the crease. Oh, and Julian?

JULIAN:

Yes?

GARAK:

Don't wear the skant in the dark.

JULIAN:

Beg pardon?

(Exasperated)

Have you done something to this uniform too?

GARAK:

No, my dear Doctor, no, of course not.

It's the undergarments. I fear any - ehem - alterations I've made to them might be erm… readily noticeable by passerby should you be caught in a dark environment.

(Pause)

To be fair, I was truly under the impression you could wear the skant in a tunic style as a top.

JULIAN:

(Suspicious)

Garaaak?

(Turns off light)

GARAK:

I'll let you settle in, my dear.

JULIAN:

There's… there's fluorescent stitching on here!

GARAK:

Fluorescent? My dear, don't be gauche. It's phosphorescent.

JULIAN:

(Reading)

"GARAK'S CLOTHIERS, DEEP SPACE NINE"??

GARAK:

Sleep well, Julian. We'll speak soon.

JULIAN:

We'll speak bloody now, Elim! You've made my arse into an advertisement??

GARAK:

Goodnight dear. 

(Hangs up quickly)

JULIAN:

Is this on all of them??

Elim? GARAK!! 

(Notices he's hung up)

Rotten lizard. I'll get him back. Put _me_ in glow in the dark knickers. 

(Louder)

Computer: compile data on visible spectrum light for humans and Cardassians. Compare. Flag any color visible to humans and that is invisible to Cardassian eyesight.

(Starting to enjoy himself)

I wonder how many different items I can get the replicator to write Property of Starfleet Medical on…

  
  


ATTB  
THE END

( Yes I know "knickers" is technically the wrong word, but it made me laugh writing it so it stayed)


End file.
